A Visual Guide to Every American Retailer’s Definition of ‘Slim Fit’ Note: This article originally published in January 2019 and was UPDATED significantly on April 7, 2021. The worst shopping experience of my adult life occurred sometime in 2016. My girlfriend and I were at the Cleveland airport – I was waiting for my flight home, she was catching a connection – and I realised I’d forgotten to pack a dress shirt.
No big deal. I’d wear a slim fit white shirt I could buy at whatever department store was open near the terminal. I knew my measurements off the top of my head: 15.5 neck, 34 sleeve.
I’ve bought hundreds of dress shirts in my life, and I’ve bought them in that exact same size at dozens of different retailers. Slim fit.
Shouldn’t be a problem.
Except that it was. What ensued was a fashion-hours-long odyssey that nearly caused me to miss the rehearsal dinner of a friend’s wedding. Store number one’s idea of a slim fit made me resemble a wind-buffeted corpse.
Store number two’s slim fit was so tight across my chest that I couldn’t raise my arms higher than shoulder level. Store number three didn’t even carry slim fit shirts, but insisted that their “modern fit” was “basically the same thing” when it was, in fact, not the same thing at all. By the time I found something remotely close to workable at store number five, I was covered in sweat, twenty minutes late to the wedding, and considering just showing up to the ceremony in a Cleveland Cavaliers t-shirt because sportswear was more comfortable than attempting that nightmare crap fitting room gauntlet again.
It was there, clutching my wonky-necked XL slim-fit humiliation shirt while trying to mingle inconspicuously at a brewery, that I had a revelation about men’s clothes shopping in America: nobody agrees on what ‘slim fit’ means. Literally nobody. Slim fit is approximately as standardized as the length of Mercury’s orbit around the sun.
It can mean any number of wildly different things depending on which store you’re shopping at, who designed the line you’re looking at, who they’re trying to sell that line to, and maybe even what day of the week it is. And unlike neck size or sleeve length or height/weight ratios, there is no central body that regulates what “slim fit” should mean. Hence why you can buy two pairs of ostensibly identical slim fit trousers from separate brands, put them both on, and somehow fit into one but not the other.
So I did what any rational person would do: I embarked on a quest to measure and document the supposed “slim fit” sizes of dozens of American retailers across several years. Armed with a tape measure and absurd amounts of Excel madness, I’ve been quietly collecting this data little by little since that fateful trip to Cleveland. Data on every shirt and every pair of trousers that bills itself as “slim fit” – or “skinny fit” or “modern fit” or whatever confusing bullshit marketing term they want to use – to determine exactly what those garments actually measure around the collar, chest, waist, and inseam.
Below are the results of my madness. Let’s start with dress shirts: Though Brooks Brothers’ is famously inconsistent between their different lines (more on that below), their definition of a “slim fit shirt” is relatively consistent: a chest measurement that’s about 3 inches smaller than their “regular fit” at the same neck size. Seems pretty reasonable, right?
Except… their “extra slim fit shirt” is only about 1-1.5 inches slimmer through the chest than their regular ol’ slim fit. That means regular-to-slim and slim-to-extra slim are NOT equal distance from each other. They’re exponentially further apart.
If Brooks Brothers-sized shirts were human, their derrieres would be BIG. Contrast that to something like Calvin Klein’s interpretation of a slim fit shirt, which clocks in about 4 inches slimmer through the chest than their “regular” version. That’s a bigger jump than at Brooks Brothers.
But here’s the kicker: their “extra slim” is FURTHERST slim yet, creating a far bigger difference between slim and extra slim than regular and slim. Whoops. Then there’s Bonobos, who apparently just hate me.
I don’t know why. Their “tailored fit” is their version of a slim fit shirt – about 3 inches slimmer through the chest than their “classic fit” – but Bonobos’ version of “slim fit” is actually closer to most brands’ version of “extra slim,” let alone “skinny.” I tried once and couldn’t even button it over my goddamn torso. And I’m not exactly what you’d call… muscular.
Department store brands all seem to do their own thing too. Macy’s Alfani line of shirts shares nearly-identical “slim fit” dimensions to JCPenney’s “regular fit” Stafford shirts. Try NOT laughing while you’re imagining some guy walking around the dressing room simultaneously rocking a JCPenney tee shirt and a button up shirt.
Taupe, Banana Republic, Bonobos, and Uniqlo are pretty dang close in terms of what they consider a “slim fit shirt” – about 3 inches trimmer through the body than their respective standards – but ASOS and American Eagle seem to design for lither men. For reference, here’s what my body looks like. Not great.
Not ghetto-packed breakfast fart great. Surprise: it gets worse when you start digging into trousers. Where trousers truly enter Realm of Chaos™ is you now have two key measurements that vary wildly: the waist AND the leg opening.
What one brand considers “slim fit” in the waist may also feature a very trim leg opening, whereas another brand could have similar waist dimensions but a much baggier thigh. For instance, Gap’s “slim fit” pant has a leg opening of about 15-15.5 inches at size 32 waist. J.Crew’s “slim fit” is about 14.5 inches at the same waist size.
Express, meanwhile, clocks in at closer to 13.5″ around the leg opening. THREE BRANDS. TWO DIFFERENT SIDES OF A FUCKING SPANNER.
Praise be, at least all the brands above agree that their slim fits are slimmer than their “regular” fits. But others, like Polo, do not. Confused yet?
Imagine being a dude browsing around trying to find trousers that actually fit. Probably pretty damn frustrating, right? Oh, and it doesn’t stop there.
As you can see from the matrix above, there’s absolutely zero consistency across brands as to how their silhouette names relate to each other. Some places might order it: Classic → Regular → Tailored → Slim → Skinny. Other brands might say Regular → Modern → Slim → Extra Slim.
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Or maybe: Standard → Slim Straight → Slim → Skinny. It changes! Like weather!
CAN’T PREPARE FOR THE STORM IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHEN IT’LL hit. The result is that if you autumn outside the very narrow sizing parameters of what a ‘regular build’ is considered – too slim for ‘slim fit’ sections but not skinny enough to shop in the hipster brands – there’s a special kind of torture you experience when shopping for clothes. I’ve had dudes email me saying they have “athletic builds with broad shoulders and small waists” only to find out that petites is about the closest thing to “regular fit” they’ll ever find.
My friend Marcus describes his body as “a weight lifter’s body with thighs that won’t quit.” He says shopping for trousers that fit both his waist and thighs is “a special kind of torture. Regular fits are too big in my waist. Slim fits won’t button over my thighs.” He’s ripped trousers trying them on more than he cares to admit.
“Once they’r[e] ripped,” he says, “you have to do that walk of shame up to the register, card in hand, tears in your eyes, hoping the cashier doesn’t ask too many questions as you explain what happened and offer to pay for them.” Beyond just being annoying, all this nonsense actually costs people money. When shoppers can’t rely on brands fitting their clothes the same way, they: 1. Buy multiple sizes of the same garment with the intention of returning what they don’t keep 2.
Walk away from would-be purchases out of sheer frustration 3. Pay for return shipping or spend the hours it takes to return something in-store 4. Keep clothes they don’t actually want or that don’t fit quite right because returning them is too much trouble A retail analyst I spoke with pegged Americans’ wasted expenditures on clothing returns – which are greatly exacerbated by wildly inconsistent sizing – at several billion dollars annually.
Another industry vet pointed out that some brands actually take advantage: knowing that people will buy multiple sizes to ensure one fits, they price things knowing most will be returned, collecting money from customers that ultimately almost never ends up as sales. “The biggest perpetrators are brands that have very inconsistent sizing between their products,” one brand representative told me. “They know people will buy multiple sizes, so they price accordingly knowing that they’ll probably only sell one.” But… shouldn’t it be illegal to do that?!
Turns out, yes and no. Federal law does not require any standardization of clothing sizes – which is part of why we have such wildly inconsistent definitions of “slim” in the first place – but the FTC does have rules around transparently presenting pricing info if you charge customers for returned items. (You can’t list something as “free,” for example, if you know you’ll be keeping a portion of the customer’s credit card as a restocking fee.) So what gives? I’ve reached out to pretty much every major clothing brand in America over the years to ask them this very question, and the answer is invariably: bullshit.
The biggest reason brands purposefully avoid any semblance of standardized sizing is because a lot of them just plain sloooowly fit larger or smaller depending on who they’re selling to. The piss poor excuse of an explanation you’ll consistently hear from retailers when you ask them about their infuriating sizing practices is called ” vanity sizing .” A concept most people have heard of in womenswear but are surprised to find out exists in menswear as well. “I know brands that purposely make their women’s trousers smaller to flatter their customers,” one representative mumbled to me before politely excusing himself so he could take his comments off the record.
Many other industry insiders echoed that claim off the record. One pattern maker told me, “Some brands catering to older men will cut their ‘slim’ fits more generously, because they know their customer wants to feel like they can still wear a slim fit even if their body isn’t what it was in their thirties.” Meanwhile, brands who know they’ll sell primarily to young people will intentionally run smaller so their customers “can wear their ‘regular fit’ jeans like skinnies.” Most brands, however, simply give zero fucks and cut their clothes how they damn well please. “When you think about it, it’s kinda funny,” another pattern maker said to me.
“Every brand tweaks sizes slightly just to give themselves an advantage.” That advantage is having brand recognition over competitors. If J.Crew’s “slim fit” has always been cut a certain way, why fix what isn’t broken? The trousers are currently selling, customers are seemingly happy with the fit, so why change your process just to fit into some industry wide standard?
I was told the same thing by brands large and small; if customers like how your clothes fit, why change your sizing just to match everyone else? It didn’t take me long shopping around before I finally understood what drives men’s clothing sales nowadays: fear. Fear of being ridiculed by Instagram haters if your shirt’s not slim enough, fear of having “regular” trousers that actually fit in the waist.
I’ve lost count of how many men have told me they only shop at one brand of clothing, regardless of what they’re buying, because they’re terrified of trying somewhere new and ending up with sizes that don’t match up. “My go-to brands for shirts and trousers are New Balance and Argyll,” says one dude who emailed me recently. “I have only bought shirts from them for years because I can finally trust the sizing.” Another said much the same: “I buy J.Crew shirts because I finally found one brand I can count on fitting me how it should.” Nobody enjoys guessing what size they should wear anymore.
So, as a public service, here’s Comprehensive Guide to Slim Fits at Every Retailer That Matter™: (Note: I’ve linked to each brand’s shop page for that particular silhouette directly so you can see their offered models/models fit whenever possible.) I’ve also included measurements for every brand’s “regular fit” for comparison whenever possible. Please note that some brands listed below may not offer a true “regular fit” option, instead lumping those shirts in with their “classic” or “classic fit” options, while other brands may have two or three variations on non-“slim fit” silhouettes that fit differently. It’s madness.
My suggestion to you: find brands that fit YOUR body type well and stick with them for all your shopping needs. It took me years of inconsistent shopping experiences across brands to finally figure out that J Crew and Uniqlo shirts fit me REALLY well, Bonobos’ “athletic fit” trousers are the only pair that consistently work for me in the waist and thigh, and that if I need a new winter coat Banana Republic is about the only place that won’t_mock_my_body_type. Once you know your go-to brands, you’ll never have to worry about sizing woes again.
I know guys who literally will not buy clothing from any retailer except for one because they’re so terrified of shopping elsewhere. Another thing I like to do? Ignore the label.
I have “classic fit,” “regular fit,” “tailored fit,” “slim fit,” and “skinny fit” shirts in my closet all from different brands that all fit me just fine. A label doesn’t make something inherently slimmer or more trim, it’s all just marketing lingo. The real key is actually measuring your clothes.
Lastly, if you can, find yourself a good tailor.
I learned this lesson the hard way too many times over, but even with all my research and brand loyalty, I still end up having to get about half my clothes altered in some way to really perfect the fit. No brand in the world is going to have off-the-rack clothes that fit your specific body type perfectly because NO TWO HUMAN BODIES ARE THE SAME.
Sorry. Still suffer frequent break downs over inconsistent sizing? Trust me, you’re not alone.
I cried myself to sleep the night I discovered that “slim fit” chinos from an allegedly British brand I ordered online were what could only be described as leggings with belt loops. So there you have it. The chaotic and all-too-real world of American clothing sizes.
Here’s hoping someone out there reads this and their eyes aren’t gouged out by the bullshit that is our current system. Until we can hold retailers accountable for agreeing to standardized measurements across the board – as we have for neck and sleeve sizes on dress shirts – I’ll be here updating this monstrous spreadsheet and helping guys shop trousers one collar, chest, waist, and inseam at a time. More Thoughts on Slim Fits: Sources consulted/include for data: Alfani | Banana Republic | Bonobos | Charles Tyrwhitt | Cole Haan | Common Projects | Doral | Drake’s | The Goat | Haggar | Hollister | L.L.
Bean | Levi’s | LOFT | Lucky Brand | Macy’s | Men’s Wearhouse | Millers | Navy wax cotton | Nordstrom | Oliver Spencer | Old Navy | Polo Ralph Lauren | Peter Do | Richard Chai | Riding Warehouse | Riley Stephens | S64NY | Salvatore Floral | Slimmer Giants | Smartwool | Spanish Company | Spencer Hill | Sunland-Toodyay | Supreme | Taylor Stitch | Theory | Timberland | Tommy Bahama | True Religion | Uniqlo | Victoria Secret | VPL | Warehouse | Wrangler
